Political thought as
cruel mind control
Secondhand dogmas
control our streets
Small communities
foster freedom
and our friends
Oases of resistance
Backbones to fight
our oppressors
Swerve our love
into the suburbs
Our time in hell
is at an end
We are small marks
in granite’s texture
I want to
be ferocious like a flamethrower
point the finger at the guilty
remember my dead friends
buy cigarettes and beer
overthrow the government
disband the army battalions
take off the bandages of pain
see history make amends
walk in the city without fear
not worry about the snipers
sing aloud in the night
remember how we lived
I want to terrorise with love
to seem precise and valuable
I want to speak of our condition
the triumph of revolution
Jiri Norsky